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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596504">might as well</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveler0145/pseuds/traveler0145'>traveler0145</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Humor, White House, no beta we die like uhhhh not Andy thats for sure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:14:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596504</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveler0145/pseuds/traveler0145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy, immortal head of the criminal underworld, breaks into the White House to get her Rodin back and has fun scaring the president who shall remain unnamed but you know who it is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache &amp; Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani &amp; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>might as well</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the old guard are immortal crime lords and have a bone to pick with trump but instead of doing the usual torture and assassination thing they just ... scare him. idk I was tired</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andy sighed. This was the second most boring break-in this week.</p><p>One would assume the White House would have high security or something similar, but alas. She would be the last person to complain.</p><p>She thought briefly about informing the head of security about this, but then again, this security breach was increasing the chance for interested parties to get a little creative with their political investments, namely spying, torture and assassination.</p><p>She better inform head of security. At the beginning of the next term at least.</p><p>As she made her way across the Oval Office - which was the hardest to break into, but she liked the challenge - she mapped out the rooms in her head.</p><p>In the old times she'd come here for fun. She and the other members of the Old Guard, the five leaders behind the worlds collective criminal organisations - Not that anyone knew that. They would sneak in and spend the night in Jeffersons bedroom when he was away in Virginia or eat James Buchanan's candy from the secret stash he kept in his office. Those were the good old times. The digital age had come and break-ins were to be planned and taken serious and such silly matters more.</p><p>She pulled open the doors of the Oval Office and turned right, then took a flight of stairs up, until she finally reached the presidential suite. According to her informants, who were always right (those were the perks of being friends with Sebastien le Livre - also known by his associates as Book, partially because he could get you information on anything and anyone) the President and the poor woman married to him were in the bedroom, which was fine because the bust Andy was after - Rodin had sculpted it in her likeness - was in the living room.</p><p>She pulled out a set of lock picks and got to work. The lock gave in in less than three minutes.</p><p>Apparently the security didn't plan for people to get this far.</p><p>Apparently the security hadn't planned for a thousand year old Scythian warrior to break into the presidential suite while looking for a certain bronze bust. Those poor bastards.</p><p>She opened the door with skilled ease, stopping the door at a precise 50 degree angle to prevent it from creaking.</p><p>Her rubber soles made no noise on the light carpet. for a moment she looked around, soaking in ever little detail; the furniture, the curtains, the view and, in a cabinet to her left, her bust.</p><p>Few places were as constant, as unchanging as these rooms.</p><p>She shook her head lightly to chase away the nostalgia as she slowly made her way towards the cabinet, taking care to stay close to the sofas in the middle of the room to avoid creaking floor tiles. the cabinets glass doors opened easily and without noise, which was nice because she really didn’t want to deal with that right now, not when the bust was right there. When the doors where fully opened she slid of her rucksack and pulled out her gift. It was a bust and it was bronze but it wasn't sculpted in her likeness and it wasn’t a Rodin.</p><p>After the American presidents had hidden her Rodin for so long she wasn’t going to steal it back only to leave another one in his place.</p><p>Instead it was a bust of the previous president - a democrat and an black man. scandalous - and thus a good choice for her to place in the living room of the idiot that called himself President nowadays.</p><p>The bust was smiling and Andy couldn’t decide wether it was a comforting or a condescending smile, which was exactly what she liked about it.</p><p>The idiot would throw a fit. Carefully she pulled the Rodin off it’s shelf, her leather gloves giving her a good grip - she hadn't forgotten how heavy that thing was - and slid it in her rucksack.</p><p>(Fingerprints weren't really an issue when you were a person who didn’t legally existed, or existed in dozens of alterations, depending on how comfortable you were with identity fraud.)</p><p>Careful she placed the Rodin in the rucksack and the not-really-a-Rodin-but-this-will-be-hilarious-trust-me in it’s place. She closed the latch of her backpack and put it on, ready to leave.</p><p>Suddenly there was a groan from behind one of the doors, the one she knew was the bedroom</p><p>Time stood still. Judging by the tone it was the president who was awake, not his wife. Andy eyed the door. She was an exceptionally skilled warrior, had honed her training for thousands of years, had adapted and changed with the technologies of the world and had yet remained her self. She could escape without anyone ever knowing she was here.</p><p>The sound of bare feet on carpet came closer and Andy knew it was only a matter of seconds until the door would open.</p><p>She hesitated and settled her stance. Complete calm washed over her, mixed with childish glee.</p><p>She was in the White House, in the middle of the night and the most powerful man in the western world - the law abiding part of the western world - was stumbling towards her, completely oblivious he was not alone.</p><p>She shrugged and grinned to herself. "Might as well." Andy thought.</p><p>The door opened. The man was old, white and rich. That wasn’t the issue.</p><p>She know plenty of nice old, white rich men, men who were much older and much richer than this man would ever be, namely Book and Nicky.</p><p>The problem with this specific old, white rich man was, that he was also, plainly speaking, and asshole.</p><p>She had always liked to give assholes a piece of her mind and here she was.</p><p>Andy took a step forward, into the moonlight that fell pale and cold onto the floor.</p><p>The man saw her, gasped and grabbed his chest in shock. He was wearing a wifebeater and underpants which Andy was eternally grateful for.</p><p>"Mr. president."</p><p>He stuttered and Andy noticed with amusement that the top part of his hair was missing.</p><p>"Who-- who are you. how did you get in here?" His voice was exactly as nasal as it sounded on TV which was somehow sad. His poor wife. Andy tapped her com and immediately Joes voice was heard, laughing.</p><p>He was probably talking to Nicky, which was perfect because Andy had an idea.</p><p>She spoke calmly. "We are the ghost of your sins. You shall revoke the healthcare changes you made earlier today or you shall face our wrath."</p><p>The man stuttered. Joe snickered in her ear. "Ey boss! since you’re already on it, remind him to raise the minimum wage for me, would you?"</p><p>Andy took half a step towards the man and continued, voice steady. "You shall raise the minimum wage so that the American people may prosper and America may be great again."</p><p>The man flinched at the mention of his famous campaign line.</p><p>"Boss."</p><p>There was Nicky, just as she had guessed. After a thousand years together they couldn’t surprise her anymore.</p><p>"Tell him if he doesn't change the healthcare system we’ll haunt his every waking hour and ..." Nicky trailed off.</p><p>She took another half step and was now standing right in front of the president, who had taken to cowering on the floor.</p><p>"Look to it that public healthcare is implemented or we will haunt your every waking hour. You shall only find peace in your sleep and don’t think we won't be watching, waiting to strike.”</p><p>Muffled laughter sounded through the coms. "Book just came in, I think he wants to say something too" Joe explained.  </p><p>Andy smirked.</p><p>The man shrunk back in fear, something she would never get tired of seeing. "Don’t forget I am powerful enough to make our threats come true, so be fearful, espèce de crétin demeuré, tu as de la merde dans la tête ou quoi?. N'oublie pas pourquoi la guillotine a été inventée."</p><p>Joe and Nickys laughter echoed through the coms while Book continued to let off a string of curses.</p><p>The president, who was only a man like any other - and all men were afraid of Andy, even the stupid ones - was cowering on the expensive carpet, shielding his face with his tiny hands.</p><p>Andy left smiling.</p><p>By the time the man looked up from the floor, the ghost - woman - nightmare -dream had disappeared from the living room. It - she, he reminded himself, she couldn’t have been an real ghost after all - had left no traces.</p><p>There had probably not been anyone here at all tonight, his imagination had played tricks on him. It had probably been just that. A nightmare.</p><p>He went back to bed, unsettled by his dream but at peace with himself.</p><p>He didn’t have to act upon the demands of nightmares, he was the president of the United States, the most powerful man in the western world (but he always forgets that he is talking about the law abiding world when he says that to himself).<br/>
When the man woke the next morning and found his Rodin gone and replaced with a bust whose smile could only be describes as condescending he remembered the threats. His scream could be heard all over the White House.</p>
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